Karnak, Monarch of Death-Chapter 158: Rescue Operation (4)

Karnak peeked through the left-side door of the underground chapel, surveying the aftermath.

“That was a beautiful explosion."

Serati looked at him in exasperation. "Did you kill him just for this?"

"Yeah. You need a corpse to use Corpse Explosion."

Karnak wasn't the type to derive pleasure from killing. He didn't take lives unnecessarily. It was just that his definition of necessary was significantly broader than most.

“I mean, it’s not like there aren’t ways to make someone self-destruct while they’re still alive...”

But the resulting explosion was too weak to be worth the effort.

"Besides, I am trying to live somewhat humanely. Isn't it more inhumane to make someone explode while they're still alive?"

"I mean, I guess?"

The fact that suicide bombing was the only method he had considered was, in itself, deeply inhumane. But Serati chose to let it slide. Regardless, it seemed that, despite appearances, Sores had been a fairly competent necromancer. The force of the explosion had thrown the area around the altar into utter chaos.

"Wh-who did this?!"

"Stay alert! Search every direction!"

Thick smoke filled the chamber, and chunks of flesh and filth splattered across the walls and floor. Some of the necromancers were even gagging. Karnak and Varos clicked their tongues.

"These guys call themselves necromancers, but they've got weak stomachs,” commented Karnak.

"Just because someone's a necromancer doesn't mean they're used to handling corpses. Honestly, even I don't want to step in there,” responded Varos.

“Actually, same.”

Being accustomed to filth didn't mean enjoying it.

"But hey, what can you do? You don't always get to live life exactly the way you want."

Varos smirked. "Coming from you, that's pretty rich. You lived your life exactly the way you wanted, young master.”

"Fair point.” Chuckling, Karnak began chanting. "Oh, king of flames, by our contract, I summon thee. Descend upon this place and heed my will!"

Fire erupted, coalescing into the form of a giant. A towering fire spirit clad in blazing armor emerged, gripping a flaming sword in its massive hands. It illuminated the underground space with its infernal glow.

"Go, El Ragnatia!"

With a piercing roar, the fire giant smashed through the chapel doors and stormed inside.

***

The blazing giant surged into the darkness. Its eyes, burning like molten embers, swept the room with seething fury. There was no doubt. It was a fire spirit, and not just any fire spirit, but a high-tier one. Only mages of the seventh circle or higher could summon such a powerful entity.

"Spirit magic! So it’s the King's Order after all!"

Hugot's cry sent a wave of alarm through the necromancers.

"But that was Corpse Explosion just now!"

"How can a mage use necromancy?!"

In the modern era, there was only one group known for wielding both necromancy and magic, the mages of the Black God’s Church. Only those who received Tesranach's blessing could harness both arts at once.

One of the necromancers, now in a panic, muttered in a daze, "This is impossible... How can a pagan use the Black God's miracle?"

The fire giant raised its massive, flaming sword and brought it down in a sweeping arc. A wave of searing flames surged across the floor, roaring toward the altar.

"St-stop it!"

If they lost the altar now, everything would be for nothing. The necromancers scrambled to counter the attack.

"O veiling darkness, become a shield to protect your master!"

A thick wall of darkness formed in midair, standing firm against the incoming inferno. The flames and the darkness collided. And then, nothing happened.

Huh?

What...?

The massive fire spirit vanished as if it had never existed. From the beginning, it had been a mere spectacle with no substance. A second too late, Hugot realized his mistake.

"Damn it!"

Leven was still bound to the altar. If the intruders had come to rescue him, why would they set fire to the very place he was being held? Would they really risk burning him alive?

They resorted to trickery because...

Hugot spun around, eyes wide, and shouted, "They're behind us!"

And then, he froze. Before anyone could react, a man and a woman, both wielding blades wreathed in crimson aura, were already charging at the necromancers.

"Too bad for you...” Varos muttered coldly, spreading both arms outward. “But you’re too late!”

Twin swords, each linked by chains of aura, slithered through the air like serpents. In an instant, two necromancers were ripped apart, their bodies shredded into pieces that scattered through the air.

On the other side, a red-haired woman unleashed a streak of lightning-fast slashes.

"Haaah!"

Before her opponents could even react, her blade cut deep, across a chest and through a throat. A spray of blood followed, and another necromancer collapsed, lifeless. But Serati didn't stop there.

Against necromancers, this is the safest method, right?

With a hardened expression, she severed the corpse's limbs. Even if they were raised as undead, they would be too crippled to fight effectively.

Having dispatched three enemies in seconds, Varos and Serati quickly retreated behind the altar. They had no intention of pushing too deep into enemy lines and getting surrounded. It was a wise decision. A heartbeat later, beams of pure darkness rained down where they had just been standing.

The devastating blasts missed their targets, instead carving deep scars into the chapel's stone floor. The necromancers gritted their teeth in frustration.

"Damn it!"

"Those accursed pagans!"

In the blink of an eye, they had lost three of their own. The enemy was infuriatingly adept at striking when least expected. The enraged necromancers gathered their power.

"Come forth, forsaken souls! Burn your spirits to strike down our enemies!"

"Rise, dwellers of the abyss!"

Unlike traditional magic, which often failed when cast in a state of emotional turmoil, necromancy sometimes even thrived on heightened emotions. Dozens of evil spirits materialized, swirling through the air, and the gates of hell cracked open, unleashing summoned demons.

"You dare desecrate this great ritual?!"

"You will be punished, pagans!"

"I shall have vengeance for my death!"

For reference, that last shout came from one of the necromancers who had already died once when Karnak's group had escaped earlier—only to be reanimated as an undead. Such absurdities were simply part of necromancy.

With newfound fury, the necromancers moved to surround Varos and Serati. Yet, amid the chaos, Hugot remained calm. He scanned the battlefield.

Where is he? Where is that one?

Now was not the time to be concerned with the aura-wielding swordsmen. The real threat was the black-haired mage who had completely dominated their necromantic arts before. If that man showed himself, another nightmare would begin. He needed to prepare a powerful spell before that happened.

Hugot turned toward the altar and froze.

"Lord Demphis!"

The archlich stood motionless, utterly immobilized, as though trapped inside an invisible cage. A thick veil of darkness, seeping from the altar itself, had wrapped around him like an impenetrable barrier.

Lord Demphis?

***

Demphis was in shock.

What the hell did he do?!

The enemy's magic had targeted him with impossible precision.

How did they know the exact moment I wouldn't be able to react?

Five minutes. It was a mere five-minute window. If they had attacked five minutes earlier, the ritual would not have yet reached its peak, and he could have paused it momentarily to fight them off.

If they had attacked five minutes later, he could have accelerated the final steps, completing the ritual before they could stop him.

They had struck at the exact moment when neither option was possible. Whoever planned this attack had known their weakness better than they did themselves.

But that made no sense at all, because even Demphis himself hadn't realized this was a weakness until now.

How did they pinpoint a flaw even I wasn't aware of?!

As a result, he was now trapped, sealed within his own necromantic energy. It was a type of magic he had never seen before. The blue flames in the archlich's hollow eye sockets flickered as he turned toward the far side of the chapel. A black-haired young man, wand in hand, was soaring toward the altar.

Who the hell is this guy?!

***

Riding a gust of wind magic, Karnak soared through the air and let out a quiet sigh of relief.

I barely managed to get the timing right.

Summoning El Ragnatia had served its purpose, but he couldn't sustain it for long. He needed to cast Elezar's spell on Demphis immediately, but with his current mana reserves, he couldn't maintain both simultaneously. Fortunately, the fire spirit had done its job of disrupting the altar’s ritual and creating chaos. Now that Demphis was bound, only the small fry remained!

"Scorching Flames!"

Dozens of firebolts arced through the air, raining down upon the necromancers. Explosions erupted in succession, engulfing the surrounding area in fire.

With the attacks still detonating behind him, Karnak landed directly atop the altar.

Then, with a sweeping motion of his wand, "Break!"

The chains binding Leven shattered all at once. Without missing a beat, Karnak grabbed Leven and hauled him up. "Get up, Leven!"

In his urgency, his speech slipped into informal language. He wasn't trying to be rude. It was just habit. Leven was originally his subordinate after all. He was wavering back and forth between formal and casual speech. Not that Leven, who was in the process of being rescued, was in any position to complain.

"Th-thank you!"

The plan was simple. He would first rescue Leven, then free the other prisoners in the stone chamber. And finally, escape—sprinting at full speed toward the uninhabited zone. That was Karnak's strategy.

Alright, the others should be locked up in that chamber...

Just as he turned to move toward the other prisoners, Leven, who had started to follow him, suddenly stopped in place.

"Huh?"

The chains had been broken, but dark tendrils of energy still gripped Leven’s limbs and neck.

What the hell? Why is the ritual still affecting him even though he's off the altar?

Startled, Karnak quickly examined the flow of necromantic energy around Leven. Then, realization struck.

Wait. He’s not a sacrifice... he's a vessel?

The nature of the ritual was different from what he had anticipated. In necromancy, a sacrifice was an offering. A vessel, however, was something meant to contain. That meant the power binding Demphis had also trapped Leven, as they were both central to the ceremony.

Damn it, I knew I shouldn't have tried something I wasn't familiar with.

If this had been pure necromancy, he wouldn't have made this mistake. But because he had tried to mimic Elezar's magic, unintended side effects had occurred. This was bad. To free Leven, he would also have to release Demphis.

But if he did that, the master of the ninth circle would be free again. He would block their paths again.

What do I do?

Karnak forced himself to remain calm, quickly scanning the chapel for a way to turn the situation around. He needed a solution, and fast. Unfortunately, Demphis didn't seem willing to give him that time.

***

Demphis remained composed. At the moment, he was trapped, caught by his own necromantic energy. But how? What kind of magic had bound him like this?

I have no idea. Not a single clue.

But one thing was certain. That Karnak had made a mistake.

I don't know exactly what happened... Demphis tightened his grip on the black cube in his hand. But I'll continue the ritual as planned!

The darkness, which had momentarily faltered due to El Ragnatia, began to surge once more. A vast torrent of necromantic energy rippled through the void, shaking the chapel.

Amid the sudden shift, Varos and Serati urgently sent telepathic messages.

—Young master?

—What are you doing?! Get Leven out of there!

—Wait, hold on! This is—

Karnak's reply was abruptly cut off. The deathly aura consuming the chapel had begun to change. The darkness grew eerily still, like the silence before a storm.

Then, a chilling voice pierced the quiet.

"I shall cast my anchor upon time and space, becoming the lighthouse that dims the light...” The voice echoed with an unnatural resonance. "Come forth, O king of those who wield the blade, Necropia’s God of War!"

The void split open, and a chasm of darkness yawned wide. And at that moment, something unseen struck the altar with tremendous force. Leven collapsed to his knees, clutching his head as a piercing scream tore from his throat.

Karnak's face turned deathly pale. He had seen this before.

This is...

It was possession, the phenomenon of a soul forcefully taking over a body. But the real problem was the identity of that soul. It was one he knew all too well.

Leven?

The soul of Leven Strauss, the future Martial King, was descending upon this land, defying time and space itself.

“Aaaaargh!